Tough Little Boys
by kyla713
Summary: A o/s written for ericastwilight's birthday, based on the song Tough Little Boys by Gary Allan.


**A/N: This is something I started years ago but didn't get very far before I needed to focus on other things. But as it's ericastwilight's birthday, and she has been telling me for a while that she wants a Daddyward, I wanted to try brightening her day with one. It's not much, but I hope you like it, Erica! Love you so much, girl! And see you in a little over a week!**

 _When tough little boys grow up to be dads_

 _They turn into big babies again_

 _~Tough Little Boys by Gary Allan_

"Come on, _Edward_ ," Mike Newton drawled out my name as I looked up to him from the ground, not giving him the satisfaction of so much as a wince, even as blood dripped from the corner of my mouth. "That's a name for someone's _grandpa._ "

As I was growing up, I'd learned to never be affected by much. Whether it was about my name or my too long legs making me tall for my age—also, very thin as well—I was always the easy target for every bully at any school I attended. There were definitely times when I was much younger that I considered having my brother, Emmett, help me, but I didn't want to be _that_ kid. The one who hid behind my burly older sibling as he fought my battles for me. I wasn't about to shrink into a dark corner and hide, and I faced every taunt and fist from them head on.

I watched Mike's face turn red as I stood and smirked at him, completely ignoring the ache it was causing in my jaw. "That's funny. Because my _great_ -grandpa's name is _Michael_."

I swung my arm back and my fist collided with his nose, and as usual, the next thing I knew, we were both sitting in the office with icepacks on our individual injuries.

My poor mother learned to expect a call from the school a minimum of once a week, or at the very least, for me to walk in the door each afternoon, proudly displaying newest battle wound. It would vary in severity, from a welt on my face to a bruised rib, and I was sure she was just thankful for the days that didn't result in a trip to the ER or the police station. Especially once high school hit, and I began to fill out, compliments of my calling to baseball. The bullies never surrendered, but then, neither did I.

Therefore, it came as a surprise to me, and everyone else for that matter, when my tough guy bravado melted away into non-existence in one single moment five years later.

The second they laid that tiny baby girl in my arms in the delivery room. Everything else disappeared for that singular moment, and my life was irrevocably changed forever, more than anything I'd ever felt. I was no longer just some baseball player, or my parents' son, or my wife's husband. I had the new, and single most important, title of my life.

I was Dad.

I never knew fear before that day, holding her and terrified to let her go out into the world, where anything could hurt her. Nor had I felt it quite as strongly as I did the day I came home not even a year later after a long day of training, to find my daughter standing in the middle of the living room, my wife gently holding each of her hands.

"Let's show Daddy what we've been up to today, what do you think, Carisa?" Bella spoke softly, and I watched as our little girl's smile stretched across her face as she looked up at me and she bounced lightly with a squeal.

"Dada!" she called out her newly learned word and her knee bent to take a step forward.

My breath hitched as one foot followed the other, moving toward me. I felt tears forming in my eyes; the first time I'd cried since the day she was born. Her little blonde curls, which she'd inherited from my father, bounced as she excitedly attempted to move faster. She released her hold on Bella's fingers, causing her to lose her balance and fall back.

I lunged forward to catch her, even with Bella taking hold of her hands again, falling to my knees and sweeping her into my arms. Her tears soaked through my shirt as her head leaned against my shoulder as she cried, and my wife simply chuckled.

"She has you entirely wrapped," she said as she shook her head, leaning down to kiss my forehead and running her hand over Carisa's back. "She scared herself more than anything, honey. She's okay."

My lips moved over my baby girl's hair, comforting her and trying to ease the pounding in my chest. To watch her hit the floor and her lip tremble as she began to cry, my heart felt as if it had literally leapt into my throat. "Can't we cover the floor in bubblewrap or bumper pads or something? She could really hurt herself."

"Edward, look. She's fine. You're freaking out more than she is," Bella replied, pointing to Carisa, who was now looking up to me with a teary smile. "You can't protect her from everything, forever."

Lifting her as I stood, I turned on the stereo and began swaying back and forth to the music. "There's no law against daddies protecting their little girls."

We rocked in time with the soft music until Carisa's eyes closed and she fell asleep against my shoulder. I made my way over to the couch, where I remained for the rest of the evening with my little girl sleeping peacefully on my chest.

Before I knew it, my baby was turning five and getting ready to start school. Bella had returned to work not long after Carisa's first birthday, once the off-season hit, and her income had become substantial enough to support all of us, in addition to what we had saved over the years while I played in the minor leagues. So, we made the decision when Carisa was three to take her out of the daycare she'd been enrolled in, and I would retire from baseball to be a stay-at-home dad—and I'd loved every minute of it. The play dates, the dance classes, the Daddy and me tea parties, and everything my friends seem to dread with their own kids, were moments I soaked in and relished.

Now my little girl was spreading her wings and taking her first plunge into the real world, and I was scared to death and a little lost. For six hours a day, as she was going to full day kindergarten, I would just be Edward again. I'd heard women describe the emptiness they felt after sending their child to school for the first time, but I thought I'd be able to handle it just fine.

Was I ever wrong.

That first morning arrived and I stood in the kitchen, making Carisa's lunch and trying to mask my sniffles with deep breaths and faux coughs.

"You getting sick, Daddy?" my sweet little angel asked from the kitchen table, where she was eating her bowl of cereal.

I shook my head and managed a small smile before glancing over to her. "No, baby. Just inhaled some dust or something. I'm fine."

A small snort sounded from a few feet away. I glanced over to see Bella pouring herself a cup of coffee with her lips pinched together, trying to restrain a laugh, even with the hint of tears showing in her own eyes. After giving her a playful sneer, she made her way toward me and kissed my cheek.

"You'll be okay, I promise," she whispered in my ear before she grabbed her travel mug, wished our daughter good luck on her first day of school with a hug, and headed out the door.

Carisa brought her empty bowl to the sink and turned to face me. "I can stay home and help you clean, Daddy. I don't _have_ to go to school. "

I knelt down in front of her and swept her still tangled hair back from her face, and then kissed her forehead. "Yes, you do, sweetheart. You're going to make lots of new friends and learn all kinds of cool things, so you'll grow up to be super smart like your mom, and be anything you want."

"You're smart, too. Mommy can't speak French."

I smiled a little at her words; that was just one more special thing, just between us. One thing I'd retained well from my years in school was the six years of French I took between middle school and high school. Initially, I'd taken the class in order to better communicate with a pen pal named Garrett I'd acquired when I was in the fifth grade. He lived in France, and we'd helped each other with perfecting one another's languages, and it was a friendship that endured to that day. I'd started teaching Carisa simple little words and phrases in French since her fourth birthday, when she'd heard me on the phone with him, and she said she wanted to learn, too.

Suddenly, my little girl looked down to the floor, her lip trembling slightly. "What if you get lonely, Daddy? You're gonna miss me, right? I don't want you to be sad."

"Of course, I'm going to miss you, ma chérie," I replied, causing her to smile and then giggle as I tickled her sides. "But I'll be okay, and I'll just cash in on some stupendous Carisa hugs when I pick you up at the bus stop this afternoon."

Carisa's eyes lit up then—she'd been looking forward to riding the big yellow bus all summer, almost like a "big girl" rite of passage of sorts. As much as the overprotective dad in me would have rather taken her myself, Bella convinced me to let her try it. If she didn't like it or there was any sign of trouble, I could simply start driving her to school. I knew she was right; once again reminding me that I couldn't protect her from everything but letting go was _hard_.

"Now, how about you go get dressed and then Daddy will do your hair," I said as I turned her around, kissing the back of her head before nudging her forward.

"Two braids like Anne, Daddy!" she called out as I heard her little feet ascend the stairs in a hurry. Her newest obsession over the summer had been the Anne of Green Gables movies, the first being her favorite, so I was expecting that particular request.

"Only if you're dressed and back down here in five minutes," I replied and chuckled when her little foot falls increased in speed and volume.

Once her braids were finished to her satisfaction, her lunch was packed in her Disney Princess lunchbox and stowed in her little backpack, we made our way out to the car to head toward her bus stop.

I was holding up all right until I saw the large, hulking vehicle making its way down the road, and my heart started racing when the flashing lights began. "This is it, baby."

With a glance in my rearview mirror, I watched her nod silently with wide eyes. I stepped out of my SUV and lifted her out of the backseat, setting her on the ground and taking her hand. Her little grip was tight as we moved toward the other kids, and I crouched down in front of her.

"You have a good day, and I will be right here when you get back," I said, flipping her braids over her shoulder and she nodded. "Je t'aime, Car."

Carisa threw her little arms around my neck, hugging me tight as she replied, "Je t'aime, Papa."

After one last kiss to my cheek, she hurried over to the bus and heaved her tiny legs up to ascend the steps. Before the bus pulled away, she settled into a seat facing me and gave me a wave, and I returned it as she began disappearing from my sight.

For the first time in two years, I was completely alone, and I hated that feeling. I'd be going home to a quiet, empty house; no television blaring her favorite movies, no sound of her voice or her dancing around the house singing—until three o'clock. I headed back to my vehicle to get in before the few other parents standing around noticed that I was, in fact, starting to cry.

I wasn't ashamed of how much I loved and missed my daughter, but I did want that moment to myself. Tears were streaming down my face and my heart was aching, even though it seemed a little ridiculous. She would be back before I knew it, but I had to find my identity outside of just _Dad_ again.

 _Tomorrow_ , I thought as I started the car, pulling out onto the main road and began following the bus to school. _Just to see for myself that she gets there safely, and I can quit worrying so much_.

I swore I must have looked like a complete creeper, parked on the road by the school and watching Carisa come off the bus, already talking animatedly with a little red-haired girl. Yet, I also noticed a few other cars around me, with other mothers and fathers doing the exact same thing.

No sooner had Carisa entered the building, my phone vibrated in my pocket, and I quickly retrieved it.

 _I know you're at the school._

"Shut up," I mumbled at my wife's text with a laugh, while I typed out my reply.

 _How would you know?_

 _Because I know my husband, and how hard this was for you,_ came her answer a moment later and my head fell back against the headrest.

 _Our baby is in school, Bella._

 _I know. I can hardly believe it, either._

 _Why does that scare me so much?_

Tears began forming in my eyes again and I knew I needed to get home before the floodgates burst. How my wife was being so strong, I had no idea. I knew it wouldn't always be so bad—hell, even some of the moms I knew said that after the first year or so, they started counting down the days of summer the day after school let out. I just couldn't ever imagine getting _used to_ Carisa not being home with me, let alone looking forward to days without her.

My phone buzzed a few more times on the way home, and once I was parked in the driveway, I checked it.

 _Because you're a softy with a big heart, and I love you all the more for it._

 _And I love how much you love our daughter._

 _I have to head into a meeting right now, but I will try and come home for lunch. I love you, Edward. In case I haven't told you lately, you're the best husband and father to our daughter that I could have ever wished for. Remember to do something for YOU today, even if it's only a nap. xoxo_

A nap—such a foreign concept, but I couldn't deny the appeal of the idea. Not that I would be able to fall asleep easily in such a quiet house.

I headed inside and immediately made my way to Carisa's room. Sitting on the edge of her bed, I took her favorite white teddy bear into my hands and started mindlessly squeezing it as my eyes scanned my surroundings.

No, it wouldn't always be like that. Someday, the pink frills and carousel designs on her walls would likely be covered with a bunch of magazine pinups, and Disney tunes giving way to some music I probably wouldn't understand. In place of tea parties, she would be begging for privacy with her friends during sleepovers. Then eventually, she will grow up even more, and before long, my little girl would be a teenager and almost assuredly giving her old man gray hair and ulcers between puberty, boys, and driving. Prom, high school graduation, and of course, the day every father both dreads and looks forward to—walking my baby girl down the aisle. Then I will likely be sitting right there on that bed again, in that room, looking back on all the moments that I was imagining right then.

I lay back and rested my head on her pillow, hugging that teddy bear to my chest and closing my eyes. For being such a tough kid growing up, all it took was the birth of one little girl to crumble that armor and make me completely vulnerable. Yet, I wouldn't change it for anything; I'd just cherish every moment I had.


End file.
